A Long Way
by Elizabeth Rosalind Silverthorn
Summary: Tish and Priestly seem like the perfect couple... until they aren't. When Priestly is left to pick up the pieces, will he be all alone, or will someone step up to help?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: What Hurts the Most

Priestly looked up as footfalls met his ears. His jaw dropped open as he took in the scene before him.  
It was Tish, her suitcase clamped firmly in her hand and sunglasses on her head. She wore a stoic expression as she headed for the door. Priestly, jolted out of his state of shock, leaped up and raced over to his girlfriend, catching her arm just as she grabbed the knob. She turned and fixed him with an icy glare.  
Gulping down his nerves, Priestly stuttered out, "Where are you going?"  
Giving him a spiteful look, Tish shrugged off his hand. "I'm leaving, dumbass," she stated, sickly sweet. Priestly was stung by her words. Sure, the couple had their fights, just like any other couple. But nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing big enough to make her want to leave, surely.  
And was the dumbass comment really necessary?  
Tish reached from the doorknob again, and Priestly grabbed her wrist, panic flooding through him. "Hey, wait. Let's talk about this. I can change. I promise," he pleaded, his mind racing. What had he done wrong? It must've been him.  
She whipped to face him, throwing his grip off. "Talk about what? Us? We're over." Priestly felt like he'd been kicked in the gut, but Tish kept going, seeming to be fixed on making him miserable. "Look at you!" Priestly spared a quick glance down at himself. Sure, he'd started wearing his crude t-shirts again, along with his left earring, but she'd said that she didn't mind. "When I agreed to this relationship, I didn't think that you would take up all THAT again!" she snapped, breaking him out of his trance.  
Overwhelmed by how fast Tish was trying to walk out of his life, he held his hands out, trying to form a somewhat intelligent response. What finally came out was, "You should've just said something. I'd gladly change for you, Tish."  
The brunette snorted, and Priestly felt his heart stop, then sink into his stomach. That had been his last grab at hope. His last way to keep her with him, and she'd blown it off.  
"Obviously not. You lasted… what… a month? And then, that stupid little piece of shit went back in your ear!" Priestly self-consciously put his hand up to his ear. He thought she would stop, at least long enough for him to formulate a retaliation, but she was on a roll, and her words knocked him down further and further with each hiss of breath. "You want another reason? Here's one: You are way too clingy! You follow me around like a puppy! It's so annoying! And, not to mention, you refuse sex. Boaz, we've been together for three months now! How is it not special enough for you yet?" Tish paused, then faked thought. "No, wait. How WAS it not special enough?" Priestly opened his mouth to answer, but the furious woman before him cut him off. "You're clearly not the right guy for me. See you at work… Priestly."  
That stung the most.  
It wasn't the slam of the door. It wasn't the name calling or the accusations. It wasn't the fury.  
It was the fact that she'd called him Priestly for the first time since they'd been together.  
The pain finally becoming too much, he sank to the floor, his eyes blurring. The woman of his dreams had just walked right out the door. She hadn't wanted him.  
In fact, she damn near detested him.  
It was a long while, in that broken state on the floor, until he heard another voice. "Priestly? Tish? Anyone home?" The second name sent a stab of pain through him. He knew, in the back of his mind, that it was Piper. She had said she was dropping by with movies after work for them to have their weekly movie night. At the memory of those many happy nights, Priestly winced again.  
He felt like a 13 year old girl.  
Soft footsteps padded into the house from the back door, and he heard Piper gasp as she fell to her knees beside him, hands clamping on his shoulders. "What's wrong? What happened? Where's-?"  
He knew it was coming. Her name. The one that would haunt him. So he cut Piper off, his tone bitter, but tired. "She left."  
And that was when he completely lost it. He sobbed into Piper's shoulder as she gently comforted him, rubbing circles along his back and whispering apologizes and reassurances in his ear until he pulled away. He forced his happy go lucky grin onto his face.  
Would it ever come naturally again?  
Priestly knew he was being a bit overdramatic, but his happiness had been sucked away from him, replaced by the angry clicking of heels on the linoleum and the slamming of the front door.  
"What movies did you bring, Pipes?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: What Becomes of the Brokenhearted

Priestly knew it would be hard. Going into work every single day and seeing her again. Watching how other guys looked at her now that Priestly couldn't step in to stop them in their tracks. Her completely ignoring him instead of sending him suggestive winks. Her avoiding him like the plague. He knew it would hurt. He fully expected it, and had the whiskey in his cabinet labeled with her name to prove it.  
What he didn't expect, however, was her to flirt back.  
She fell back into the same routine. The before 'Boaz' routine.  
She would chat up a stupid guy, have sex with him, and then leave him high and dry. She seemed to be taking their breakup perfectly. She hadn't even shed a tear.  
As for Priestly… he'd burned all of his Banana Republic clothing. It had always made him feel uncomfortable anyway, but he'd suffered through the khakis and polo shirts for her. He drank regularly, and not just a tequila sunrise before bed. Another thing that he'd given up for her. As he had predicted, his smiles were increasingly more and more difficult to come by. He still vividly remembered the goofy grins he would give her. His heart stopped. Her. Priestly couldn't even think her name anymore without feeling as if there was a gaping, growing hole in his chest.  
He should've listened to Trucker when he told him that work relationships were a bad idea. But, being the complete idiot he was, he'd opted to ignore the sound advice.  
To his great surprise, Piper and Jen and even Trucker had stopped being buddy-buddy with her. In fact, there was rarely any conversation between the workers. They kept their heads down, only making a peep when they needed to tell each other the orders. The tension was almost tangible. Priestly couldn't tell if it was because of the breakup or the hookups.  
Bored and in waiting for the chicken to cook for an impatient-looking business woman, Priestly let his mind wander aimlessly. It was dangerous, and he knew it. But, for the first time since her, he didn't care in the slightest. Of course, the first topic that his mind went to was breakups.  
'Why are they called breakUPs if you feel so down afterwards? Well, breakdowns were a completely different thing, really. They came after the breakups… for most people. So, maybe, they were so named because couples rose their voices at each other, and then after-'  
"Priestly! The chicken!"  
Jen's frantic voice sent him blinking, then rushing to save the remains of the meat from the consuming heat. "Shit!" slipped out of his mouth as he looked at the remnants of the chicken on the stove.  
Because things weren't going bad enough for him already.  
He startled slightly as a hand curled around his shoulder. It was Piper, who was looking sadly down at the burned poultry. "Why don't you take a walk? I'll take care of this," she suggested cautiously. Priestly didn't have to look up into her face to know that she was giving him a sappy, sorry look in that moment.  
He nodded and choked out, "Yeah. Yeah, okay," before stumbling dazedly out of the sandwich shop, apron still tied around his waist.  
She was flirting with yet another hopeless man at the front counter as he passed, oblivious to his little misfortune by the stove. He forced himself to keep his eyes forward, focused on… well… focusing. He'd screwed up his job just because of her. It was hitting him harder that day. Priestly knew that none of them would give him a hard time for it. They were all too busy giving him those pitying glances that were gone as soon as they'd come.  
Clearing his throat around the swelling lump, Priestly scraped his feet along the pavement, shoulders slumped. He wasn't looking where he was walking. He could've walked straight into someone and he wouldn't have given a damn.  
Priestly had no idea how long he'd been gone. He had vague memories of walking the entire beach who knows how many times, and passing by a vendor selling fresh pretzels at least twice.  
He just knew that he needed to get back. Trucker had been kind enough to let him wander his thoughts off, but really, this was a bit absurd. The sun was a lot lower in the sky than it had been when he'd started his slow, depressing walk. Who was manning the grill? His grill, that had the left top burner that needed a few extra minutes because it was slow, and you needed to really scrub at the grate over the middle because it grabbed onto grease like hell was about to take over.  
So, he resigned himself to going back, surveyed his surroundings, and set off in the direction of the shop.  
It didn't take too long, but the entirety of what felt like a death march, Priestly felt his heart tugging further and further down. He stopped in front of the bright storefront, taking it in from the outside.  
It had been nearly three years that Priestly had been working there. They were easily the best three years of his life. The little sandwich shop on the corner was the first place to accept him without an application. He'd just seen the help wanted sign and walked right in. And, to his great shock, no one stared at him. Each person in the store looked up, waved or smiled at him, then went on with whatever they were previously doing. Trucker had approached him and straight up offered him the job, asking what talents he had and how he could help the shop. Naturally, Priestly had mentioned his love for cooking. And the rest was history. Priestly smiled as he remembered his 20 year old self, straight out of college (he'd been kicked out) and ready to hit the world right then and there. He hadn't been intimidated by anything. A happy-go-lucky man with too many piercings and a loud personality. Priestly felt himself grin at the memory. Why would anyone give him a job?  
It took Priestly a bit to realize what was different about the front of the beloved store he worked in. His eyes skimmed over the expanse of window and stopped on a little sign he hadn't seen out since Piper had stormed into their lives. "Help Wanted: Normal need not apply". Curious as hell at the sudden difference, Priestly shrugged off the feeling of depression and pushed the door open to the store.  
It wasn't hectic at all, seeing as it was so late. But the lights were on,almost seeming softer, and Piper was wiping down the tables. Priestly frowned. Funny. She usually wiped the tables down. His head traveled around the small shop as he stood in the doorway, feeling abruptly out of place. Noah and Julia were getting ready to go by the far booth, Julia sleepy on her father's shoulder as he held her backpack in his other hand. Jen was on the computer again, fingers clicking away at the keyboard. Trucker was slumped against the counter, and Zo was working out the stress in his muscles with a practiced technique. "Did T-she go home early or something?" He hadn't really meant to let the question out of his mouth, because even just in his head, it made his stomach churn with the thought of her with some douchebag, like the one she was talking up earlier.  
The heads all whipped up to stare at Priestly, and an unsettling feeling of having many sets of eyes on him spread through him for the first time in a long time. He cleared his throat, and that seemed to break everyone out of their stupor. Yet the only one who answered his question was Trucker, still leaned stressfully against the brightly colored counter. "No." And that was it. Just "no". 'Is it too much to ask for to have Trucker just give me a straight answer without a frickin game of 20 questions?' Priestly couldn't help but think. He felt minutely bad for the stray thought, but carried on, determined to find out why she wasn't there anymore.  
"Did you make her take out the garbage? You know how she hates getting the reek of the garbage all over herself, right?" He could hear himself shutting down. The comment would normally be lighthearted and teasing, but ever since she left him… Priestly almost winced at the thought. How long had it been? He couldn't even say. It felt like too long, that was all he could figure out in his muddled mind.  
Heads flicked around, silent questions passing through looks, secret accusations. Priestly just wanted to get out of there, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep that night if he didn't get this goddamn question answered. "Priestly…" Trucker stated, and he immediately felt dread settle low in his belly. It was the father voice, the one that people used when they were about to tell you something shocking that they hoped you wouldn't flip your lid about. "It's been a rough couple of weeks here. With the situation between you and Tish." Priestly winced. Hearing her name again seemed to stab his already wounded heart. Why would Trucker bring her name up? He knew that it hadn't ended well.  
Priestly's heart seemed to stop in his chest, and he knew that his face was an open book in that moment, but he couldn't help it. "Yeah, I guess," he found himself saying. Emotion definitely shown through that little comment.  
A silence spread over the little group, broken only by Noah and Piper's farewells, and Julia's half-asleep wave as the door clicked shut once again. It was getting bad now, quiet atmosphere starting to drown Priestly's composure in the awkwardness. Just as he was about to make his grand exit, Trucker spoke up again. "I guess there's really no way to break this news softly." His eyes darted up to meet Priestly's, and he suddenly couldn't hide behind his mohawk, letting out a nervous, childlike gulp. "I fired her."  
At first, the statement didn't actually register in Priestly's mind. It was numb with the shock. She was a part of the family, someone who had been there from day one. Trucker wouldn't… would he? No, he couldn't, Priestly finally concluded. This is all some sick joke. He was the one that was getting fired. He was the one with all of the piercings and tattoos and crazy shirts. He was probably scaring away the costumers, except for the regulars. Ready for the rejection, Priestly was shocked as Zo spoke up. "She was bad for your aura. It was two rivals. I couldn't see it before, but she is a toxin in a relationship." Priestly blinked a few times, still not believing what he was hearing. Was she really gone? Was she actually bad for him? But he loved her so much, to the point where it was the most painful thing that had ever happened to him when she left. She couldn't have been that bad for him, right? Zo, seeming to read his thoughts, crossed to him and put a hand on his shoulder, wise little smirk on her face. "She really is gone, Priestly." Hearing his name snapped him out of his stupor. "And she really was never much good for you. I am so sorry that I didn't see it sooner. But I sense that this has happened just in time for another major event in your life. Something big is about to happen," Zo told him, excited as he had ever seen her.  
Even with the hopeful words, Priestly couldn't help but have his doubts. Would he ever see her again? Would he have the will to turn her down if she begged to come back into his life? Would he ever lose what made him Priestly again? He thought back to when she had been destroying his self confidence, his hand drifting subconsciously to his left earring again. It was what made him different, so who the hell cares for her opinion?  
Sure, it still hurt. Priestly still went home and drank that night, still moped around a bit as the memories from various rooms in the confining house managed to get to him. But he felt like he might be happy again. He was getting a second chance, and damn him if he was gonna let it slip through his fingers.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Advice for the Young at Heart

Priestly walked into work in his usual late fashion, hair in two vibrantly red mohawks. They weren't the best he's ever done, but they looked good with his black and white shirt that read "G F CKY RS LF. Wanna buy a vowel?" He actually had on semi normal pants today, just ones that reminded everyone of Angus Young. And damn he was so ready to grill.  
He strutted in with an announcement that the smartass was finally back, causing smiles and a few disapproving looks from parents who had small children with them. With a shrug, Priestly slid over the counter, feet hitting the floor with a calculated, childlike bounce. He could practically sense the relief from everybody, but he ignored it. Priestly was going to act like nothing had happened if it was the last thing he ever did. Because the last couple of weeks were nothing in his book. Nothing happened, he had lost himself in sorrow and alcohol. But he felt so energized, like he could run a marathon. The term was 'fake it 'till you make it', but Priestly acted like he had already made it.  
Still giddy from his extra sleep and promise to himself that he would forget all about her, he grabbed at the person closest to him and twirled her in a circle.  
An unfamiliar laugh rang in his ears, and he suddenly became aware that this girl had bright green hair tucked back in a messy bun. Who the hell-? "Again? Really?!" Priestly demanded, whipped around to nail Trucker with a glare. "I thought I said to tell me when you hire someone! Did she at least pass the test?" Priestly knew he was whining, but he was all fired up and this new chick had rained all over his parade.  
Trucker threw his head back in laughter. "Sorry, Priestly. You're the one who showed up late. And yes, she actually did. So give the kid a chance, okay?"  
Rolling his eyes a bit overdramatically, he turned back to survey the new girl. She looked back up at him with hopeful eyes, but he could only really notice her array of tattoos up and down her arms. Gorgeous sleeves containing everything and anything decorated her skin, and Priestly suddenly found himself mesmerized by the twirling and tantalizing patterns that they portrayed. Before he could get a hold on his mouth, he blurted out, "Nice tats."  
The smile that spread on her face temporarily left him speechless, but he shook himself and the moment passed. "Thanks." Priestly soon found a returning smirk stretching his face. He liked her already. Bright hair was usually ironically a turnoff for Priestly, as on women, it was generally overdone or done poorly, but hers only seemed to accentuate what beauty was already in her hair. Lost in his thoughts, he barely even registered her sticking her hand out assertively, and he grabbed it almost in a trance. "Nice to meet you. I'm Lara."  
Priestly swallowed. She reminded him a lot of when he had first met... He felt his face fall. He thought that he was over her. He never wanted to think about her again, so why the hell was she in his thoughts now?! Priestly almost startled as Lara's warm hand drew away from his. Again, he had been pulled away from an important moment because of her. Why the hell did this have to happen to him?  
As he forced himself back into reality, he could only focus on Lara's brightly burning cheeks, and how she turned her back to him to start cutting up fresh vegetables. And boy did Priestly feel like shit.  
She was just trying to be nice, and he had to go and make her feel uncomfortable.  
Yeah, nice going, Priestly.  
With a sigh, he shouted at whoever was listening, "Apron!" A heavy roll of fabric caught him in the ear, and it wouldn't have hurt if it hadn't caught on his piercing. "Fuck, really?!" Priestly grabbed a towel and held it to his bleeding earlobe, good mood long gone. Without even waiting for the bleeding to stop, he grumpily threw the reddened towel onto the floor.  
Second chance his ass. Today had been going worse than the past few weeks had been, and he had only been there for five minutes tops.  
Tying the apron around his waist a bit savagely, he flicked on his grill almost with the same ferocity, managing to stop himself from ripping it off just before his hand hit. With a sigh, he dragged his hand down his face. Before long, he was doing what he did best, grilling things so precisely that not even Gordon Ramsey would complain.  
Well, maybe not that good, but Priestly was definitely feeling better than before. To his great surprise, the work day went by quickly, and he was wiping down tables in no time at all.  
But it still bothered him. The small form, hunched in the corner with her large headphones over her ears and eyes shut as she leaned back against the wall. He couldn't get his gaze off of her the entirety of the time she was sweeping the floor. As Jen was leaving, she pointed out to Priestly that it was getting a bit creepy, so he had immediately found a way to busy himself, wiping down the tables with a wet rag from the back room. That didn't take very long, and without even realizing it, Priestly had wiped down each table twice, and was going through the third time when Lara laughed. He felt what was almost relief. Now this was a second chance, he thought to himself as his mind instantly went back to that morning, when he had spun her around and she had laughed that very same laugh. "What's so funny?" Priestly teased, halfway bent over the table he was cleaning and a tiny grin on his face.  
It looked like Lara was about to backtrack, just for a moment. With a glance at his sincere face, however, she relaxed in the paranoia brought on by his hostile behavior earlier. "If you clean the tables one more time, they're gonna shine like that earring of yours." Taken aback, Priestly nearly slipped forward on the rag he was holding and bashed his face on the table, he was cackling so hard. Lara looked a bit surprised herself at his reaction, then grinned and joined in his laughter.  
As they settled down, Priestly confessed, "Honestly, I didn't even notice. I've got a lot on my mind recently." He tried not to let his thoughtful expression show, but it was clear that he had failed, judging by the tilt of Lara's head. Thankfully, she didn't push the subject. She just nodded in acceptance and carried on, wheeling the bucket and dirty mop into the back room.  
Priestly was about to leave when Lara came back out and, looking down at his chest area, stated bluntly, "Well, that's quite flattering, but I would much prefer you doing it for me." Priestly blinked.  
"What in the hell are you talking about?" he scoffed. He immediately regretted it. Anyone that remotely knew her could see that she had drawn back into her shell.  
It looked like she was struggling to get words out for a second, and Priestly was getting a bit concerned about her medical health, when she blurted out, "I like your shirt." Shocked into looking down at his own shirt, he let out a short laugh, admittedly a bit awkward. Wow, he just couldn't stop being a jerk to her today, could he?  
Almost instinctively, Priestly's eyes travelled to settle on her shirt, and he let out another laugh, this one a lot less forced.  
'Yet despite the look on my face... you are still talking.'  
Lara was flushed a bit when Priestly came back up for air, but he hardly noticed. This girl was so much like him that it was refreshing. Finding someone as abnormal as himself was really a chore on the civilized streets of Santa Cruz. "Ouch, sweetheart. That hurts. It really does," Priestly teased, earning a bashful punch on the arm. "Hey, I'm gonna head out. You need a ride home or something? It is getting pretty dark. Wouldn't want you running into any dickheads out there, hmm?" Priestly let his face soften. He knew what it was like on the first day. Even he had been timid, too out of his element to do anything crazy. It had taken him a while to get cozy here, and he wasn't even sure exactly when the change had occurred, but just like that, Beach City Grill was his home, and it was his family, and it was definitely his grill. But Lara was still a little too shy to open up to him, and politely declined his offer with a friendly smile.  
"See you tomorrow, Lara. I'm gonna go home and watch a bunch of horror movies. You sure you don't want to join?" That remark earned him the twitch of the corner of her lips, and it was suddenly the only thing he could really focus on.  
She crossed the shop to grab her bag from under the counter, then came back up with her keys jingling in her hand. "As tempting as that offer is, I need to go home and get some sleep. And probably wash this color out. I'm thinking orange tomorrow. What about you?"  
Priestly blinked. He never thought that far in advance. The one time he had tried to plan a schedule, he had promptly decided that morning that he wasn't in the mood for his planned color. So he really just stocked up on every color imaginable in case the day called for it. "I don't know. I'll probably decide in the morning." Swallowing down his sudden nerves, he waved to Lara and headed for the door. "Night," he called, trying to keep his voice from squeaking.  
What the hell was wrong with him?  
He was off in his own thoughts until the loud music blasting from his speakers startled him. "Jesus fucking Christ," he swore, scrambling to hit the knob that controlled the outpouring of sound. He was still tense, though. Back ramrod straight and mind muddled over the very sudden intrusion of his silence.  
Seriously, what is wrong with him?  
Shaking off the feeling of something he couldn't quite place, Priestly pressed his foot to the gas and took off, leaving a cloud of dust and confusion in his wake.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4-Need You Now

It was late the next day when Priestly decided that he should probably get off his lazy ass and do something productive. He had spent the majority of his day cooped up in his room, too moody to go to work. He wasn't even sure if it was Lara's fault. In fact, he was positive that it really wasn't. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that it had something to do with her.

He stared in the mirror for a long time, looking over the same face that he has looked at since the day she left. Frowning at his reflection, he raised his hand up to run it through his hair, still slightly red from the previous day. Priestly grumped as he turned in his small bathroom and turned on the shower. As he waited for it to heat up, he brushed his teeth, pacing the minuscule length of the bathroom over and over again. It only took him three steps to get to each wall. Step, step, step, pivot, repeat. He was lulled into a trance by the repetitiveness of it, only broken as he spotted the steam starting to gather on the bathroom mirror. Looking into it one last time, he set his toothbrush on the sink, stripped himself free of his clothes, and stepped under the hot water.

Priestly was under the spray for a long time, simply letting it run over his body. It felt good, slipping across his skin and through his thick hair. He couldn't help the sigh that spilled from his mouth as he closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling of water caressing his scalp beneath his hair. After a while, he reached for the shampoo and squirted some into his hand, not even looking as he set it back on its precarious shelf. He knew every last nook and cranny of his house. It's just the way his brain was mapped out. Swallowing as he started cycling the memories through of when he had shared the house, he focused on scrubbing the shampoo through his hair thoroughly. The red swirled out of his hair, down his lean back, and cycled the drain for a moment before disappearing down it.

Knowing the precise amount of time it took, Priestly was satisfied after it that all of the color was gone. He lathered up his body in soap quickly, not letting himself linger too much on any of his physical appearance. That's why she left, he reminded himself, wincing as the water started to turn cooler. How long had he been in there?

Shaking his head, he turned off the cold water and stepped out of the shower, forcing his eyes away from the long mirror that hung on his wall and instead focusing on the fluffy towel that sat in patient wait for him on the counter. He dried himself off without really looking at his body, careful to direct his senses elsewhere, like how the towel felt on his skin, or the reminder that he needed new soap because he was running low.

He ran a hand down his face before starting to pull on new clothes that he had grabbed pre-shower. And of course, as was everything that Priestly wore, it all had questionable cleanliness. Not that he was a dirty person, he just hated doing laundry. It bored him to fucking death. And Priestly hated being bored. It was literally the worst thing that could happen to him.

With a bit of a sigh, he pulled open the drawer containing all of the bright colors that adorned his hair on a daily basis, and they undoubtedly brought a smile to his face. "Hello, there, beauties," he greeted, mood instantly uplifted. His fingers skimmed across the top of them for a moment before he grabbed a blue bottle from the stock. He was in the middle of putting it into his hair (he really just used the spray stuff, but he used nearly a full can every time), there was a knock at the door. Pausing mid-spray, he scoffed. Who the hell would be visiting him? Barely anyone knows where he lives. Even his parents don't know, but that's because they'd basically disowned him as soon as he started with the piercings and tattoos and all.

It was no skin off his nose. Not like they were doing him any good whatsoever anyways.

He bounded across the house with his bare feet as the knock came again, still quiet and unsure, but enough to annoy Priestly. "If you're Girl Scouts, you can leave now. I can't stand your cute friggin faces," he yelled out as the knock came yet again.

Needless to say, when he opened the door, he certainly didn't expect to find a girl with bright orange hair, a sarcastic shirt, and what looked like a lunch bag gripped tightly in her hand. She smiled as his eyes bugged open in surprise. "I-uh-thought you might want some lunch. Jen told me your address. I was a little worried that you hadn't come into work by, you know, noon. The others were worried, too. But they told me that you were fine." The girl before him shifted.

Priestly suddenly realized that she was waiting for a response. He rubbed the back of his neck and gestured for her to come inside. Giving him a thankful grin, she stepped in, eyes immediately looking his place over. He almost wanted to punch himself in the face. Of course she looked around his place. Because nearly everyone who walks in his door can't help but wonder what the house of a punk like him would look like. Feeling a bit out of his element with this girl he'd barely ever spoken to in his life, he went for the one thing that had always helped him stay friendly instead of awkward. Humor. "Disappointed that there's no garage band in my living room, huh?" he smirked.

Lara kind of looked at him, then cracked a smile, then laughed. Maybe she was waiting to see if he was joking or not? Priestly had no idea with this new chick, which means that she was probably in the same boat vice versa. "Don't worry, I can just hire mine to stop by," she quipped, sending a discreet wink in Priestly's direction. Honestly, he didn't really know how to respond. Ever since her, he had left the flirting to people who actually gave a flying fuck about their love life anymore. He shook his head as Lara gave a tentative little giggle, which brought to his attention that she had made a joke, one that even he himself would've been proud of, and he hadn't even batted an eye. Trying not to make it too awkward with obnoxious or over the top laughter, Priestly allowed himself a reserved chuckle. Thank God, that seemed to be enough for her, because a proud smirk had now spread across her face.

It wasn't long before they were seated in Priestly's living room, shoving their faces with food and talking nonstop. "Who the hell made these? They're so awesome and I know it wasn't me," Priestly questioned around a particularly large bite. Lara tossed her head back in laughter.

"Actually, I did. Did you know that the left side of the grill-?"

Knowing what she was about to say, because it really was his grill, he nodded. "Yep. I know everything there is to know about her. The perfect woman. She would never double-cross me." Before Priestly could weigh that statement in his head and think about her again, Lara giggled. He flashed a grin back at her.

Maybe he should hang out with Lara more. She seems pretty awesome, and she can cook, and she's a really good conversationalist.

Just when Priestly started to feel something in his stomach, Lara looked at her watch and the smile slipped off of her face. "Oh, crap. Trucker said he wanted me back by one. It's, like, 1:30. I'm as good as fired," she groaned, slumping her face forward into her hands.

Priestly couldn't help it. He started laughing. Lara looked up from her hands, looking thoroughly distressed. Face brightening, she stood from the couch, seeming ready to bolt. Priestly immediately stopped laughing and lunged after her, grabbing her arm. "Woah, don't run off on me. You really think that Trucker would fire you? Are you kidding me? I never show up to work on time, and he's never even come close to firing me. Not to mention, I look a lot more abstract than you, Lara. No offense meant."

She was back to her perky self at this point, and God, was Priestly glad. He wouldn't have been able to deal with it if she had burst into tears or some girly shit like that. "Oh. I didn't even realize, honestly. You really think Trucker won't fire me?" she said sheepishly, and judging by the look on her face, she thought that it was too good to be true.

Smirking down at the bright hair, he ruffled it slightly, causing her to make a face. "I am positive. Trucker hasn't fired someone since-" The words caught in his throat. Of fucking course she had to come to his mind right at that moment. "And you're not anything like her," he finished quickly, suddenly feeling very awkward and out of place.

His hand drew away from her elbow. He had forgotten that he had it, honestly. "You can go," he choked out half-heartedly, feeling the darkness press in on the corners of his mind again. "I'll... um... I'll catch up." Both of them knew that it was a lie, but neither could find the words to call him out on it.

With a quick goodbye, Lara walked right out his door, flashing him a worried look before he closed it and leaned his forehead against the cool wood.

God, why the hell is she tearing his life apart? Even after she's gone...

Priestly, with slumped shoulders and constricting throat, trudged to his kitchen. Running a hand up and down his face in barely-there indecision, he reached up and grabbed that damned bottle of whiskey off of his shelf. He could almost taste her lips when he took the first swig. The next one knocked him on his ass. Nearly. If he hadn't grabbed the edge of the table, he wouldn't be standing. "Shit," he swore, voice already slurring.

Knowing that whiskey generally wiped him out, he stumbled into his living room, bottle swinging from the tips of his fingers. "I'm fine," he said to no one as he collapsed to the couch. "More whiskey'll help," he justified to invisible friends. The once full bottle was almost empty by the time it fell from Priestly's limp hand onto the hardwood floor with a thump.

And God help him, his last thought was a prayer that he had never had this life. That he didn't want to be there anymore. That his life was worthless.


End file.
